


i've loved everything about you that hurts

by scandalous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [8]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Aftercare, Caning, Codependency, Dom James Wilson (House M.D.), Domestic, M/M, Married Couple, Masochism, Sadism, Sub Greg House, Trans Greg House, Vaginal Fingering, far too much internal monologue for porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 00:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: House and Wilson are always enabling each other. Sadomasochism is one of the few times that enabling is a win-win for both of them.





	i've loved everything about you that hurts

**Author's Note:**

> for kinktober day 8 with sadism. i got sick, etc, so i'm definitely not finishing this in october. still, i _am_ going to finish it!
> 
> enjoy!

When Wilson gets inside their bedroom, he's greeted by a scene that's completely expected, yet that doesn't stop it from stealing his breath away.

House is completely naked, his cane carefully left next to him, only about a few inches of distance leaving them parallel from one another. He's laying on his stomach, feet hanging off the edge of the bed. If it wasn't for his leg, he'd love for the position to be different, but alas. And most importantly, perhaps, is the way he's clearly wet, his entrance begging for an attention they both deny to give it.

"Oh, what do we have here?" Wilson says, a smug smile leaning towards the edges of his lips. "I guess you want to be punished. We've never quite gone to using your walking implement as also a punishment implement, but I don't see—"

" _ Please _ don't come in here and psychoanalyze why I want to get caned with my own cane, James," he snaps, as much as his voice is thick with need.

Wilson makes, of course, a note to psychoanalyze it later. He hasn't heard of whatever is the latest case House has been involved in; they always take a toll on him when they get rougher. He doesn't want to think about someone having said, well, something to House that upset him, or House's patient dying, or something equally touching for his husband. House might pretend to never feel emotion, to  _ not care _ for the patient, but oh, he does. He always has.

He's not unfamiliar with enabling House. In fact, it's one of the trademarks of their relationship, along with cheap liquor and bad reality TV. It's a little inane (ignoring the drug addiction and Wilson's commitment issues but, details), sure, but sometimes House likes to see how far his enabling goes. So he gets the emotional bait ( _ please don't psychoanalyze this _ ) and he gets the sexual bait (the prospect of hitting House). 

House knows him better than anyone else. Sure, he might be tempted by the emotional bait, but hearing his husband cry in pain and whimper out is always a top priority. Most people don't expect him to be, well, to be like this— House didn't either, in the least. When he sprung up his sadism into their bedroom, House was enticed beyond belief, but more than that he was just confused. James Evan Wilson, heroic boy-wonder oncologist, man made of martyrdom and cancer kids?  _ He _ was the one with the obsession for seeing others in pain? Yeah, it seemed like a bad plot twist.

As it turns out, House is good at wanting pain strong enough to get his mind off the pain he doesn't want. As always, it's a symbiotic relationship— it's a win-win when they enable each other in times like this. Usually it's just him writing House prescriptions, or House letting him pick him apart and begrudgingly opening up to him. It rarely has a benefit for the both of them.

Which is why, perhaps, he takes this instance with such glee, grabbing the cane and grinning. "Color?" he asks, just to make sure.

"I said,  _ don't psychoanalyze this _ ," he insists. "Do I have to cane my own ass in this house, too?" But the tone is slightly mocking, like he's a housewife doing all the work around the house and is starting to hate it.

He laughs. "I'm not psychoanalyzing, I'm asking for consent. That's different, I believe."

House huffs. "I'm green."

He smiles at him and nods, leaning in to rub his ass soothingly, even before he touches him unkindly. "This is gonna hurt," he says uselessly, like House is not aware of the fact.

"No shit."

And there it is. Wilson's smile turns a little manic, a little feral. He can feel himself start to get hard. He grabs House's cane and, without any sort of warning, he smacks House's ass. 

The response is exquisite— he immediately wails, flails a little before grabbing at the sheets. "Wilson," he cries out.

"Yeah?" he snaps, voice ice-cold. "Don't talk to me like that again." He gives his thigh a far lighter smack with his cane; there's still a fine red line on it. "Got it?"

"Yes sir," he chokes out.

The strikes come and go. Wilson clenches his jaw hard and resists the urge to jerk himself off at the sight in front of him. It's hard to, especially with how House shudders and cries out, tears sliding down his cheeks, grabbing at the sheets desperately as marks go all over his pretty ass.

"You're perfect like this," he says. "In pain. Pain  _ I _ gave you."

A sob bubbles its way out of House's mouth, a silent plea. "Sir."

"Shh. Part of the charm's that you're quiet for once."

House whimpers loudly at that, and Wilson lands a last hit before putting the cane down. He can't help but worry, above all his arousal, if the cane can resist something like this. Sure, skin and fat are ultimately soft things, but he's still slamming House's walking implement into something. Won't it waste away like this? What if it breaks?

He swallows his worries and leans in to rub House's ass soothingly. "Color?"

"Green," he chokes out.

"Do you want to come?"

House whines, shudders. "Yes…" He swallows audibly. "Please, sir."

"Of course." Wilson settles his hand between House's thighs, starting to tease at his entrance before pushing two fingers into it. His cunt is sopping wet, allowing him easy access, it seeming to only want more, more. House mewls underneath him, pathetic noises that only drive him to work at it faster. After a few moments, he pulls his fingers out to rub at his t-dick intently. House  _ moans _ . "Oh, you're precious, that's it, keep making those noises for me, love."

That only wrings out more noises from House. As he works at his dick, he jerks himself off idly with his free hand, focused on bringing them both pleasure. But, over all, he focuses on House— on rubbing him, on leaning down to finger him from time to time, spreading his fingers inside him and delighting in the way he begs for more. He keeps toying with him for a few more minutes until House releases; it's one of those movie orgasms, eyes rolling back as he comes all over Wilson's fingers.

He pulls away and House grunts, trying to get a more comfortable position as the aftershocks go through him. He settles to being on his side, watching Wilson with his mouth open, eyes still a little dazed. 

"Don't you want help with that?" he asks, rather tiredly, as Wilson continues to get himself off.

"No." He shakes his head. "You're tired, I can take care of myself."

He gets faster after saying that, jerking himself off, replaying the image of House crying out at the pain again and again. He gasps and comes all over his own hand, eyes rolling to the back of his head before he can suck in a breath, gripping at his own softening length. He pulls away and makes quick work of cleaning himself up, still struggling to get out of the high.

"Do you want a bath?" he asks. "Or just cuddling?"

House doesn't look at him and hesitates for a second. "Second one."

The hesitance tells him all he needs to know. He leans in to kiss him. "I'll get the bath ready." House doesn't even protest, doesn't even say  _ what, are you deaf? _ like he has so many times before. He just smiles and becomes putty at his hands.

When he finally manages to be at the bath with House, he focuses on washing him before dropping the question. Any attempt at sentimentality has to be well-won, fought teeth and claw for. So Wilson fights for it, always, before asking House what's wrong. He's rubbing his fingers against his scalp with shampoo when he decides it's a good time, with how relaxed House seems.

"So, what happened at work?" When he's not immediately replied to, he continues, "what happened at work that made you feel like you needed to be punished?"

House huffs, but he leans closer towards him. "I told you not to psychoanalyze it."

"And I didn't," he replies. "At least not at that moment." He pulls his fingers away and reaches to rinse it off. "Did something happen with your employees?" House doesn't move or reply, beyond his face twisting. "Your patient?"

"Do you get your rocks off at playing pretend-therapist?" he deflects.

Wilson thinks a snappy response through. "I get my rocks off at seeing you be healthy and opening up to someone. Namely, your husband."

"What a coincidence that you're my husband," he drawls out, but it lacks any bite. He scratches at his good leg through the water. "Made some really stupid mistakes in the last case. The patient didn't die, but—" He stares at the soap circling on the water. "She got close. If I had thought a little more…"

"Thank you for telling me," Wilson says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He doesn't rebuff it. "Thank you for trusting me. And look, House…" This is the part that differentiates him from any other pretend-therapist, which is that he doesn't bother to sugarcoat things. He's a huge fan of sugarcoating, usually, but not when it involves House. Making it all honey-sweet has never worked out with his husband. "Maybe you fucked up. Maybe you messed up bad, made everyone in the patient's family not trust your team's judgment. But that doesn't negate the fact that, at the end of the day, you saved the life. Shit happens, work's hard, especially work like yours. Don't sweat it."

House audibly sighs. "Thanks, James."

He pulls him into another kiss. "It's no big deal." He pauses. "Would you like to wash my hair now?"

House breaks off into a smile smile. It's a little hesitant, but it's there. "Of course."


End file.
